


The Last Stark

by NyxNite



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2018-08-30 11:10:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 22,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8530765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxNite/pseuds/NyxNite
Summary: She made a friend of Death and of her he has always been fond. So at the end of her time, and the beginning of the end of the world, he offers her a thing. "A man will ask, a girl will answer. What would such a lovely girl give to start over?"





	1. Chapter 1

The dark figure approaches slowly, softly. Small and seemingly insignificant, dancing from one shadow to the next. The whisper of a cape the only sound escaping, dying on the waves of the wind. “In the darkness someone comes…” A man says hushed as the shadow finds the edge of his prison. The others snore loudly, the quiet of the night lulling them away, but he is a man, and he must be vigilant. He moves to rest against his bars near his guest. His curiosity is piqued.

“ _Who are you_?” Soft the voice is, childlike, speaking in the Lorathi tongue he has missed. Perhaps it is a child the man muses. The small form hidden under a dark cloak.

“ _A man is no one. And who are you?_ ” He asks as the figure stands and pulls back the soft hood. Dark wavy locks, large silver eyes, long face, and youth. So young this visitor is, a girl should not know how to lie flush with the shadows. And yet a man wonders, does he know her, for she seems familiar yet he hasn’t met her before. But she speaks to him in his tongue and holds the eyes of no one. But this is not a mask, the blood magic isn’t dancing upon her skin.

“ _A girl is no one as well. But a girl knows a man’s name and title, and a girl has favors._ ” To this a man felt his brow raise. Such a lovely girl should not claim to know such things. Dark things were not meant for the innocent. It would be a man’s duty to tell a girl as much, so lovely.

“ _Lovely girls should not wander the darkened streets at night whether the shadows love to kiss their skin or not. Lovely girls should not talk to murders even when they are behind bars…_ ” He whispers as he leans forwards, his face inches from her own. The pair are close, too close, and a man swears he can feel a magic prickling his skin, a piece of him knows her. He does not know how she can belong to him when he knows her not.

He sees a light smirk grace her plump lips, calculated. Silver eyes sparkle as her head tilts to the side, cat like. “ _A girl will owe deaths to He of the Many Faces. A girl changes the way things happened for the price of her father’s blood. A high price, but she said goodbye this time so it is all just so._ ”

“ _A lovely girl speaks of Death._ ”

“ _A lovely girl speaks to Death._ ” To this the man once again found his eyebrow raised. He looks at her curiously. She gives him a fuller smile, still calculated, perhaps they were getting to a place the man mused, a place she wanted to go. “ _A girl was told that a man could wear her face if he knew to look. If a girl were to give a man his name and title, would he try?_ ”

A man is so curious that he barely registers the acknowledgment that he gives her. An odd slip for him as no one, but there is a link between them. And he is ever so curious.

“ _Jaqen H’ghar, He of the Many Faces made flesh..._ ” She drawls out before slicing her finger open on a hidden dagger and holding it out to him. “ _Wear a girl’s face, as a man once called her his. A man sent her here. A man should know the things a girl knows, and the pact made sealed in the way that these two seal such things._ ”

His eyes darken as he carefully grasps her wrist before pressing the bleeding digit to his lips. A warm wind comes to caress him before a man finds himself a girl. Memories from a time not here flood his mind before he lets the mask of her slip from his face. His memories too are embedded there, left by a mark he burned into her blood in a time before and later. He comes to, seeing her kneel before him, it seems ridiculous. None worship him as this and she is well aware of such, finding him after such an ordeal and kneeling, she teases him for they are friends in a very odd way.

“ _This is not the way of Jaqen H’ghar and Arya Stark…_ ” The man says as the girl lets out a light chuckle before standing again.

“ _Are they not dead?_ ” She speaks and he hears her true age. “ _The way of those two are kisses to seal deals, and plots and schemes. A girl does not need to continue to be no one to speak?_ ” She asks him but he already sees her mask falling. Her eyes are finally alight with her smile and he didn’t know how much he missed such a thing. “ _A man will not make it to the Wall easily this time either._ ” She muses.

“ _Will a girl travel the trail again? Through Harrenhal and meet the brothers…_ ” A man asks as a girl shifts slightly to the side to hand him a pack she had hidden away on her person. He sees a flash of silver at her side, Needle, no longer out grown.

She bites her lip. “ _It would be wise not to change too many things, then the path won’t be as easily seen. Though sticky fingers have made a girl more comfortable and old memories will allow a man not to be hungry or thirsty if he chooses to stay. Would a man know if Daenerys would remember such things?_ ”

“ _While a man made a pact, he is unsure of how such things would have come to pass… A girl was the one who dragged a dragon into the void. A man threw them both around here, not to say what the dragon would know, more important was the knowledge of a girl. A man will stay, he will owe a Stark girl an extra favor._ ”

“ _Just so, the time spent at the House will be spent finding the answer to that particular question instead. Yes, a man will owe a girl four favors this time, she will keep him fed on the road, she gives him a pick to leave at the fire. She asks for the same results at Harrenhal but requests that a man attempt to save Lommy Greenhands._ ”

“ _A lovely girl has grown soft…_ ”

“ _A lovely girl knows the value of a friend. If he is not injured, he will live and I have already thought of ways to hide Needle._ ” She said softly. “ _No large changes until leaving the brothers._ ”

“ _Good girl, this is an odd thing we do. A girl may find more intel from her brother, but that will take time, he knows nothing yet._ ” She nods before looking over the horizon.

“ _It is my father’s last day; I would still see him once more before Joffrey has his blood spilt. I must leave a message for Sansa. Hopefully to change what she becomes._ ” She mutters pulling her hood back up. She leans forward her lips against his cheek between the bars. “ _Any other words for a warrior from the lips of a stranger?_ ” She asks.

“ _Will a warrior once again pursue a smith?_ ” He asks.

“ _Is that not the way of things?_ ” He can see her head tilt to the side a bit. “ _Is a man jealous?_ ”

“ _Is that not the way of things?_ ” He replies practically hearing the blood rush to her cheeks. “ _A man is only jealous when he is not no one. There is a reason the god finds such favor in one Arya Stark, a stranger is smitten. But he is kept at bay, mostly._ ”

He hears her bite her lip. “ _Just so._ ”

“ _Run back to the shadows lovely girl. And wear not the faces you can call to you from our brothers and sisters, unless you wish to be forever a child when the mask slips._ ” She nods before slowly backing back into the shadows.

“ _Valar dohaeris_ …” He hears upon the wind as he settles his new pack beneath his clothing. And quietly, as he awaits the rising sun, he returns the words to the warm air.


	2. Chapter 2

This time she saw his death, hidden from the shadows, she did not tear her sight away. Her hair already cropped, small bits carefully glued to her upper lip by a mixture of tree sap and powdered roots. She saw her sister faint this time, and heard the crowd roar and cheer. Her list had started again.

Before she turned away her eyes stopped on Ilyn Payne. There was a flicker of confusion in his eyes for a moment as he looked over the crowd and then down at the sword. When his eyes captured the headless body of Eddard Stark his face grew stony. He carefully sheathed Ice and then picked up Sansa wordlessly before heading back into the Red Keep.

She did not need a mummer’s tears. They slid freely from her eyes. “Not today…” And she prayed to all the gods that she could think of that her family would be kept safe, and that they would find her words left scribbled amongst their things.

Her eyes were only slightly puffy when she caught up to Yoren. He pushed her away in his rush to leave the city which had killed his friend before she was able to whisper, “Winter is coming.” Then the man took a closer look at her. His eyes widened as he whispered her true name before pulling her into an alleyway. “Arya…”

“No, I’m Arry, near to the wall you go serah…” She said as he nodded. “I need to get very near to the wall…” She muttered.

“Of course, orphan boys are always needed at the wall…” A look of pity crossed his face and she knew whenever they could find time alone he would ask her more questions. He tapped his upper lip seemingly wanting an explanation.

“A lord once said…” She paused grasping for no one to complete this minor task. Though in her world she had lost her father long ago, it still burned to see it all over again. And this time to be truly aware of his fate. “Men travel the roads with far less worry than maids…”

His eyes softened as he pulled the hood back over her head. “A noble and smart lord indeed… Keep to yourself, I will get you home.” He said under his breath before putting on a front and dragging her back to the group getting ready to leave.

Things happened as they did before though she did not fight her nightmares, a skill she had developed and honed during another time. Gendry did not figure out she was a girl. She supposed the light brush of hair that she carefully added to her upper lip kept that thought at bay. He still created a rather brotherly bond with the first name she had taken for herself, ‘ _Arry’_.

“You’ve been a better friend to me than most… Practically kin.” The bull whispered to the wolf one endless night as their group of four settled around a fire. And she had missed him then so much that it burned. But she had kept it to herself, locking it away with so many other things.

Changes happened at God’s Head and Arya became conscious of the lives not given to he of the many faces as they had been the first time. And so, the game of tallies began. And for each life she remembered now being saved she sent another to the void in its place. Later in Harrenhal, when a girl was pretending to be a ghost, a sweet voice whispered in her ear, “ _A girl is more like a lion than she thinks. She keeps her tabs and pays her debts. But such is the way of these two friends, tallies and kisses and secrets and lies…_ ”

Yoren did not die, an extra layer of swiped chainmail keeping him from being mortally wounded. Along with an arrow through the eye of the man who had put the killing bolt through his neck the first time. Though he was injured all the same. He had escaped into the woods when Ser Armory Lorch attempted to kill him. A glimmer of red and silver hiding him away while Lannister dogs combed the area. He had been taken to a nearby village, lightly fevered and delusional, where he was being healed. Jaqen had assured her later at Harrenhal that he still breathed, and seemed to be in a stable condition.

Lommy Greehands also survived, unharmed. Without the need to free Jaqen from a fiery prison, Arya had been able to yank the small lad with her into the woods after expertly sticking Needle through the throats of two Lannister Guards she knew had made it to Harrenhal the time before. She stayed on Gendry’s heels, dragging Lommy with her, they lost Hot Pie first as she remembered. The clumsy movements of Gendry causing them all to be captured next.

Needle lay hidden down Arya’s trousers and behind her cloak. The second her ears piqued their capture she had hidden it. She was so small and willowy no one thought to check even when slapping irons on her wrists. A man named Murch was found face down holding Gendry’s beloved bull helm, yet another thing she owed a man turned god. This tally game she knew they were playing in this world would drive her mad.

Harrenhal happened a bit better than the last time. Jaqen made light work of the Tickler and even more lives where saved. They still were confined to the exposed cell but four huddled together to find warmth was better than three.

She whispered her names again to the wind, the list smaller and modified. One night, as she held her body huddled next to Gendry whose skin always sung of warmth, she gave him a truth. “A boy is a friend…” She whispered right into his ear. Fear allowed no one to take over her words, this thing had not happened like this, and she would not know what to do if she lost him. Her frozen fingers clutched at his. The cell was filled with quiet breaths; they were the only ones awake for this rare moment.

He nodded softly, the mop of his now filthy black hair moving with the effort. He placed her freezing fingers in his palms, rubbing them until they weren’t as cold, a motion they had started on the road to this place.

“A girl will give a boy a truth…” She continued. He stiffened and even through the darkness she knew the incredulous stare he was sending her way.

“A girl…” He whispered back hoarsely.

“A girl named Arya Stark…” She replied letting the words sink in, remembering that he knew her name back then. “That is a truth meant for a girl’s dearest friend…”

He says nothing for a while and she knows he is thinking, slowly putting things together. No one leaves and Arya bites her lip, worried. This was not the time or place to give him too many more words, and he seemed to be aware of such. After a few moments, he sighs softly. His lips come to her ear and he pulls her a bit closer. He mocks her speech but she still hears his fondness even if it has a hint of confusion. “A boy will continue Yoren’s post because we are friends, milady.”

She suppresses the shiver that rolls down her spine and holds back the happiness that threatens to overwhelm her. Instead she tucks her head near his chin to stop herself from kissing him. “I’m not a lady… I’m just Arya, so don’t call me that.”

She feels his chest move with a light chuckle. “As milady commands.”


	3. Chapter 3

The night Tywin Lannister returns and saves her from making more deals with the embodiment of death, she finds herself dreaming. First as a young wolf wandering north of the Riverlands alone, tearing into the flesh of a recent kill. Later her blood-soaked snout is to the ground and she is tracking. Cousins, they will yield, they will fight, they will change. A sister is forever lost. But all the brothers still breathe and there is time yet. Must find the girl, must change it all. The wolf remembers even more than the North. A wolf must find another sister to protect the sister of the girl. It is why the girl’s sister didn’t understand. It would be better if she did. It would be better so she wouldn’t think to betray. Wolf and girl ache at that thought, but find themselves in agreement.

Next to come after an impenetrable darkness is a mixture of disconcerting memory. She tosses once in her sleep.

The blanket of snow covered the landscape practically blinding the two women as they stood before the army of the undead wights. Neither shivered as they stared their deaths in the face. Though one subconsciously gripped the hand of the other until gloved knuckles where white.

“It has been an honor your grace…” The younger one born of ice mutters, her steely silver eyes staring at the Night King unwavering. She runs a comforting thumb over the hand clutching at her own. And then gently rubs her small bump of a belly, a sigh of regret escaping her lips.

“The pleasure has been mine my lady…” The older one born of fire replies, her lilac eyes set upon the three frozen dragons behind the Night King, their now piercing blue eyes looking straight through her.

Westeros had fallen after the wall was compromised and it had fallen quickly. Daenerys had called for all the citizens to flee to the sea, to make their way into Essos after she lost her first dragon, Viserion to the Night King. A small band of two thousand men stayed behind, knowing that death would most likely be their end. But they had been able to hold the army of undead and white walkers back until the Battle of King’s Landing. There not only did most of their forces die, the Night King was able to procure Rhaegal and Drogon. When the sun arose the next morning, later than ever in recorded history, there were barely five dozen left.

The five dozen stood behind the two women, beaten and broken. But they held their weapons at the ready as they stared down thousands upon thousands of silent wights. And between them still stood a small pack of wolves awaiting the command of a large female direwolf, Nymeria. They would make a final stand here. And the last one’s standing would light them all ablaze if need be. None would rise to aid the Night King from this battle with the exception of the Queen. But it was a fate she had come to terms with, she had fought to return to this land and she would die to protect it.

A small needle was unsheathed as the one born of ice said softly, “I will try for one of the dragons when I am wounded. But I will not make it back, their magic is too old and I will be lost. When I fall, burn me.” Her response was a silver headed nod before she let go of her friend’s hand.

“The last Stark and Targaryen… Our ballad will be called a Song of Ice and Fire…” The young fire queen whispered. “I pray that someone will survive to sing of it…”

“As do I…” Her friend replied before raising her weapon in the air and charging towards her doom.

There was a flash of white and Arya Stark couldn’t breathe. She clawed forcefully at the frozen fingers around her neck. She could feel the frozen hum of the Night King’s magic pushing into her body. “ _Stark_!” It screamed like the cracking of ice. It wouldn’t be too long now. But she would not be like her beloved Jon, blue eyed and cold. She’d be like her Gendry, dead and unmoving. Burned and maybe even forgotten.

Her eyes captured the airborne corpse of Rhaegal. He was Jon’s, it was poetic in a strange way, to end inside of one of her most beloved things. She began to concentrate on the once majestic beast. Her eyes slowly turned white just as the fingers were cut from her throat. The last things she remembered were the feel of warm blood, hers and Dany’s mixing together on the ground. A friendly hand seeking hers out, holding it tightly. And the soft click of the mechanism that caused their cloaks to burst into flames.

Another flash of light and then darkness. A whispered soliloquy amongst friends in a place that was never. " _A lovely girl should not speak such things before an avatar forgets himself and pulls her prematurely into the void. A man will ask, a girl will answer. What would such a lovely girl give to start over?_ "

Arya Stark awoke with a start in the small room that was meant for the cup bearer of Tywin Lannister, a title she had once again taken up. The hair on the back of her neck stood high and in one swift movement a needle was pricking the neck of a shadow.

“Who are you?” He asks, a shimmer of silver and red as his head tilted to the side, the dying embers of a forgotten fire causing his shadow to dance.

“Arya Stark.” She clips, relaxing her blade hand and sheathing her sword.

“Just so.” He breathes. They stand in comfortable silence before he speaks again. “A girl dreams, a god feels it since it is the closest she can be to the void while she breathes. It is… disconcerting.”

“Did such a thing happen last time?” She wonders aloud.

“No.” He replies. He reaches out twisting a short lock of her hair through his fingers. “This thing we do… This deal we have made…”

“Do you regret it?” She asks, finding comfort in someone knowing her even if it is no one. She feels older than the body she currently occupies, her true age. The patience she has learned, even the soft changes of her expression give her away.

“Never lovely girl. Only a fool would regret attempting to save the world, even if it is forever damned.” He stops and brushes his lips upon the hair on her head.

She smiles at him. “You should go, we have duties to attend to come the morn. I shall try to keep my dreaming in check. _Valar dohaeris_.”

“And a man will try to keep a god in check as well Arya Stark…” He says with a smirk and a deep bow before exiting with a whisper on his lips. “ _Valar dohaeris_ , because we are already dead…”


	4. Chapter 4

Yet another host of nights come and go as she nears a time of great change. She holds those left to her close, refusing to let them stumble into a gift she doesn’t wish them to have. But such things are tiring, and though her body remembers much like the North, muscles must be developed once again. Feelings must be tapered, she is mature in mind but sometimes her heart gets the better of her. And deals must be struck while near the deal maker, there is no telling if their paths will cross again this time.

Arya whispers a name in trade to a friend, within the steamy walls of a bathhouse. He whispers another back and the deal is struck, a chaste kiss on her cheek, a light ruffling of her hair. Selfish it would be for her to forsake their plan and demand he come with her. Death belongs to no one. And she cannot hold him so tight. But this time it feels as if he is the only one who knows her, and that thought threatens to steal her air.

She lays upon her straw mattress and finds herself dreaming. She has promised she would try not to. But somethings are easier said than done. She falls into a void, half sure he will know. Half guilty for not being able to stop it.

"Who are you?"

The question was familiar and yet she hadn't heard it said in such a way in many years. The naked woman found herself sitting upon her knees, silver dragon in her arms, pregnant belly hiding her thighs. The room was brilliantly white, so much so that she couldn't identify floor, walls, or ceiling. Her attention snapped towards the smiling woman in front of her, a woman she hadn't seen since she was released of her service to the guild in Braavos.

"Waif..." the young woman muttered, her silver eyes narrowing.

She was rewarded with a painful hit to her hand by a long reed. Arya flinched before biting her tongue, after all she knew this game. "I assure you that is not who you are. So who are you?"

"Arya Stark." Again, she was hit.

The Waif smiled darkly, her eyes flashing. "A woman about to bear a child, a woman that had a husband once.  Who are you?"

"Arya Waters..." Again, she was hit, she ground her teeth as the Waif let out a light giggle. "Does it matter who I am if I am dead?"

To this the Waif let out a full-on chuckle before putting the reed on the ground near her leg. " A woman isn't dead. A woman is a dragon, but dragons do not take well to wargs... A dragon does as you intended but you do not control, but soon you will be dead. No body to return to. The dragon will devour your soul and you will become one."

"Dany... Is she?"

"In your arms and slowly dying as well, yes." The Waif tilted her head slightly. "I'm amazed you pulled her consciousness in here as well." There was a silence between the two before the Waif spoke again. "You must be aware that this wasn't my plan..."

"Coming from you that is hard to believe..." She muttered her bruised fingers stretching carefully.

"Then perhaps this face then..."

Arya's eyes widened and her heart sped up. "Father?" She whispered her eyes tearing up. She shook her head before standing up and backing away. Her body trembled as the person wearing her father's face stood too. She forced herself to memorize his face, it had been so long she had almost forgotten. "Who are you?"

"No one." Eddard Stark said attempting to reach out to the overly vulnerable Arya.

"Liar." She said angrily clutching Dany's manifestation to her chest.

The person let out a light sigh. "Which face would make you most comfortable?" He said pulling away Eddard and becoming Catelyn, pulling away Catelyn and becoming Jon, pulling away Jon and becoming Gendry.

"Fuck you." Arya said her body tense, awaiting an attack. She had burned her husband before the battle, she would not be toyed with in this way.

Gendry frowned before a plume of smoke over took him and when it cleared all that was left was a robed figure in red. "Lovely girl, this one has never meant to frighten you. This one has been intrigued for years. Such a beautiful wolf..."

"Who are you?" Arya asked angrily, her practicality leaving her as she tried to place the voice. Her feet began to move her forward again, the manifestation of Daenerys carefully placed behind her still rather large form.

"If a god is a man then a man gave a girl his true name and oath. A stranger you may have thought once... A friend who is unsure of how to greet a young wild wolf as she passes... "

Her face changed before she stormed up to the figure and ripped the hood back knowing the face before she saw it. "Jaqen..." Arya sighed before hugging him to her naked body. She could feel that it was him. "I missed you so much."

"A warrior embraces a stranger, as if she knows she belongs to him when she enters the void. But such things are complicated..." The man replied pulling himself out of her grasp after placing a feather soft kiss on her cheek.

"Your Lorathi riddles again? It's been a while, excuse me for not being able to become no one in this state to better understand, minter of my coin, master of my blade hand... " She said with such admiration that he shivered. She gave him a playful pout, "You should have just come to me like this. I know what you are he of the many faces... The Waif made sure of such things."

"A lovely girl should not speak such things before an avatar forgets himself and pulls her prematurely into the void." He reached his fingers out and caressed her cheek. "A man will ask; a girl will answer. What would such a lovely girl give to start over?"

She sits up straight from the bed, Needle already in her hand, already pointing at the intruder. A light chuckle escapes the shadow, and she lowers her guard. He slips next to her and they sit in a companionable silence. “A girl should try not to dream of such things. It calls a man from this realm, he hears the whispers, he clashes with a god.”

“I’m sorry.” It is simple; it is true. “Maybe the distance will help.”

“Do the dreams of a girl’s wolf fade with distance…” He asks curiously.

“They fade with forgetting.” She answered. “There was a reason why I didn’t have as many wolf dreams in Braavos. When I was no one, my wolf couldn’t find me. And when I tried, I was good at being no one. But there were reminders, and then there were dreams…”

“Then perhaps it would be better if a girl forgets.”

“Don’t you dare, it would never be better. We have pacts in place Jaqen H’ghar. I will try to dream less. Do not break your vows to me.” She said firmly, her voice losing the childish edge she had been adopting back.

“Lovely girl, a man would deny himself the peace of the void for eternity before doing such a thing. A god would allow the world to freeze and for no rebirth to be found under the snow…” He whispered, his fingers caressing her cheek. His eyes flashed; something old a mystical coming forward. “Do not offend the honor of your allies so Arya Stark.”

Her gaze softened. “You are well aware that was not my intention.”

“Just so…” He whispered brushing his lips against her forehead before practically disappearing from her room.


	5. Chapter 5

Arya Stark sat in the baths, her feet tucked under her bottom. She was staring straight ahead, her finger tips walking across the top of the still waters. Her face was clean for once; she would reapply the whiskers a bit later. Her skin needed to breathe.

“A girl must know that she makes bathing with her quite boring.” Jaqen chided playfully, from the other side of the baths, before massaging oil into his scalp, and dunking his head. He waded over to her carefully pressing a comb into her awaiting palm. She shifted then, dangling her feet into the water and letting him settle between her legs. She then carefully began to comb his hair.

“A girl doesn’t bathe with a man. She simply enjoys his silent company. It is a thing missed.” She replied with a shrug.

The Lorathi let out a light chuckle tilting his head to the side to capture her gaze. “A man’s mere presence keeps the other guards away…”

“And yet a slip of a boy might have been seen coming into this sanctuary your mere presence creates. What will they say?” Arya replied faking a rather scandalized look. She then rolled her eyes.

She continues her task in silence for a time, comfortable. He sighs when she is done, turns to face her, and rests his head upon her thigh. “A girl comes because the time of changes is near. A man will keep his word as always. The end of the sennight we shall make weasel soup. That would make it so a girl and her pack are where they are needed. A warrior has spoken to a smith?” The red headed assassin asked.

The girl stiffens. “I am not sure how much he should know. I am not sure where things will turn with him…” She lets out a soft sigh, her gaze becoming distant. “I find it hard to be as free and daring as I once was. If that is what he saw in me once, that made him love me, I worry he won’t find the same thing. It is haunting…”

“These surely are not the worries of a girl…” He says incredulously.

Arya sighed her fingers finding their way into Jaqen’s dampened mismatched locks. “We found each other while we were young and then grew together. Except this time, I am already old, and the passions I once felt seem childish and it is… hard to force myself to feel such things.” He gave her a questioning gaze and she continued. “There are moments when I feel the pleas of this body and its youth and I heed them. But otherwise I would have to be no one, play no one near him. And it would seem a lie.”

Jaqen twisted his head slightly to place a gentle kiss upon her inner wrist. “No one is a part of Arya Stark. All her faces and all her names, she remembers when others of the order forget. Was a girl not the one to earn her name back and make use of the faces when she had forsaken the order?”

“I didn’t forsake the order…” She started defensively before hearing a deep chuckle escape from Jaqen’s lips.

“She leaves to carve her own path when she hears the North holds a family once forgotten. She tells a man as much, forsakes him more than she is aware of at the time. But she has earned her name and his favor, she goes. Only returning to the House when the ice nipped at her toes…” His eyes are dark now, and old. And she remembers him from a place not here or there.

Arya bites her lip as a gentle fingertip traces the motion. “I don’t remember it in such a way.” She breathes.

“She is the air, as all warriors are. But she is chilled and dances in a spiral like the void. And moves like the waves of a mother. Or the destructive flames of justice of a father. With the steadfast knowledge of the earth laden crone. With the wonderment of the forever growing wooden maiden. All in an attempt to protect the metal of a smith. A god remembers like the North.” Her breath catches in her throat as she looks into the eyes of eternity. He is pulling her in, and she mustn’t drown, for both their sakes. “A man would breathe you in and out, simply to have you. A god would devour you and never have his fill…” They are quiet for a while until she finds it in herself to pull away.

“This thing we do… is odd… this dance…” She mutters as she tilts her head back and stares at the ceiling. She feels him slip back down into the water, his head back upon her knee. Her fingers once again find their way into his hair.

She should not tease a god so.

“Lovely girl if only…” He mutters to the night.


	6. Chapter 6

She mustn’t ask, she mustn’t. Death belongs to no one. He cannot stay by her side.

Arya stood on the grassy knoll looking into the eyes of Jaqen H’ghar. A crooked grin adorned his face as he glanced over her shoulder at her three companions, she follows his gaze. “A man would never regret a girl’s company.” He teased as Lommy sneezed behind her and wiped the snot on his shirt. She wisely holds back her cringe.

“You come with temptations, but I didn’t fall for them the first time…” She muttered as he chuckled and bent down to her height, kneeling on one knee.

“Of course not then lovely girl. A name needed to be unnamed. But there are no pressing matters here.” She rolls her eyes at this, determined not to let him know just how tempting the offer is this time around. The next saga in her life was not one that gave her pride. Yet and still, a path needed to be made, and a brother and mother needed to be saved.

“Do your best to not forget me…” She whispers fighting the urge to throw herself into his arms. “A girl would lose her only friend…”

“An impossible feat with this game they play…” He responds with a smirk.

“This game of tallies?” She asks, eyebrow raised precariously. “What is it that a girl would owe a man?”

“These friends trade names in the night and a lovely girl knows how to serve. A girl knows who should receive gifts since a man is going elsewhere at a lovely girl’s bequest. But in this game, they are even a man would suppose, for now...”

“A girl finds that shocking but she plays this game.” She sighs and then smiles at him. “Give my love to Jon.”

Jaqen raises his eyebrow and bites back a snort. “A girl knows that would be quite the oddity…”

“Nonetheless, a kiss on his cheek.” She says with a light laugh.

“No.” He says with an eye roll.

“Just so…” Arya shuffles quietly, knowing their time is coming to an end as she hears disquiet from her traveling companions. Her fingers flutter together, an odd habit to reappear, but she knows it is because she does not want to see him go. “We shall be two ships passing in the night if all things go according to plan.”

“Yes, lovely girl, a truth from evil lips.” He carefully takes her hand and places her coin within it before pushing her fingers closed around it. Before she can protest he presses his lips to hers, warm, soft, and familiar. She could hate him for the weird ache that settles inside of her. She doesn’t want to be this alone again. An urge from youth, but she cannot be this girl in her entirety again.

He pulls away when a bull snorts. Her cheeks are pink, and the unguarded look she gives him he is rather fond of. “This coin belongs to a girl for a thousand lifetimes… Should a girl go searching for a man and cannot find him, a girl will know how to have him come to her. Should a girl require the services of those from Braavos, this would be helpful as well.”

“A whisper on the wind to a god would do the same thing…” She mutters trying to reign in the bitter twang threatening her speech.

“Ah but a coin will not have a girl immediately ravaged before a god is gorged by a bull.” He replied with a wink to which Arya weakly punched his arm. “And with this Jaqen H’ghar must die.”

“Must sleep, not die. I am quite fond of that face, as you are well aware.”

“A man has known for a lifetime, it is not one of Arya Stark’s better kept secrets.” She sighs at this and brushes her hand over his face and it changes. Darkened hair, rough features, a silent scar, her Jaqen sleeps. “Remember, a girl should not do a similar thing, lest she be a child forever when a mask slips.”

“There are worse things, but I miss the height owed me. So I shall make due. Goodbye No One.”

“Goodbye Arya of House Stark.” He says planting a gentle kiss on her inner wrist. He then rises to his feet and heads away.

Arya too turns her back to him and heads back down towards her travel companions. Hot Pie is talking Lommy’s ear off and Gendry is brooding. “So… now what?” Hot Pie asks, a bit of a whine to his voice to which Gendry rolls his eyes.

“Well, we have enough supplies to camp for a bit, but I think we should make our way towards Riverrun. I have family there that would… be happy to see me well…” She pauses her eyes catching Gendry’s in a silent attempt to have him vouch for her.

“Better than anything we’ve had time to think up m’lady.” He mutters with a shrug.

She pushes down the bristling of annoyance that the title tosses at her. But “stupid bull” escapes her lips as she turns to head towards the general direction of the Inn of the Kneeling Man. They wouldn’t make it there anyway. She leads her group northwest for a time in silence before Gendry falls into step beside her apparently bored with the bickering of Hot Pie and Lommy.

“So… your friend, who is he?” Gendry asked, though she could hear the annoyance in his voice. This she thought she had avoided, not so of course.

Arya sighed before daintily tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, a rather feminine move for one with hair glued to their upper lip. “A man is no one. A man owed a girl a favor that is all.”

“ _A man_ kissed you.” He stopped and she raised an eyebrow at him. He then quickly looked for other offenses to go with this one. “And you are highborn you shouldn’t be off…”

“It is how these two seal such deals…” She replied nonchalantly before realizing that might not be the response Gendry Waters desired.

“Grown men shouldn’t go around kissing girls to seal deals that end up killing, gods, how many people Arry?!” He snapped.

“Arya…” She said stopping and staring straight into his eyes. “If we are going to argue Gendry Waters I would have you speak my real name.” It was a thing that had been said in another time, she wouldn’t have him ruining his pet name for her over an argument. Not then and there or here and now.

He stared blankly at her for a moment. “Arya…” He tested, his boiling rage almost forgotten. He let out a sigh looking back to make sure their companions where still engrossed in themselves. They continued forwards as he spoke again. “Arya, men like him aren’t safe and you can’t just…”

“And that is why we are rid of him for now. It’s why we are going towards Riverrun…” She bit her tongue, he of the many faces could be trusted more than most. But that was not a truth due to Gendry Waters. It was one she would keep to herself.

To this Gendry let out a sigh, his shoulders falling forward a bit. “It isn’t that I am not grateful to be out of that place. I just…”

“Given the resources you would have gotten us out, but we didn’t have those. But now given the resources, the ones you procured, we’ll be able to not freeze and starve until we get to my brother…” She gave him a genuine smile. “You’ve done quite well Ser Waters…” Arya beamed holding back a laugh as Gendry sputtered at the title and the look of admiration she bestowed upon him.

“I’m no ser anything…” He objected putting his palms up in a defensive position.

She tilted her head to the side and gave him a rather distant look. “You will be… one day if you want it… Someone stupid would offer you the world…” She muttered before speeding up her pace.

“Wait, what are you going on about?” Gendry asked.

“Nothing, this is a good place to camp, a bit off the road. We should be rested, I have a feeling about tomorrow…” Arya muttered before yelling back to the others and disappearing into the forest for firewood.


	7. Chapter 7

_I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you. That I couldn’t get to you. But someone is coming to help you, this I swear. But you must keep an open mind, and you must not be afraid. You will know your savior. One who will tell you only the truth and not shelter you with pretty, deceitful words. And for that reason alone, he is the only one you should trust._

Sansa Stark carefully braided her long auburn hair down her back, the nerves made her fingers tremble. The sounds of destruction sung out in a chorus all around her. But she had to keep busy, she had to or she would lose her nerve. The new breeches she wore where well fitted and lined with fur for the cold weather ahead. They were also lined with every jewel and coin she could get her hands on.

Her riding dress was light, common looking, and made for easy movement. It had been hard to construct under the strict criticizing gaze of everyone, and she had lost quite a bit of sleep over it, but it served her purpose. Her boots where fitted and she had worn them enough to know they wouldn’t cause blisters should she need to walk long distances. She tossed a hooded cloak over her shoulders in the darkness of the room, gathered the bag of supplies she had squirreled away into her arms, and waited, maniacally organizing and reorganizing to make the time pass. She needed to be here, that much she felt. Here is where her destiny would change, she was sure of it.

_A day will come soon when King’s Landing will burn. You must be ready for it. You must be ready to leave, it is your only chance. The golden headed pretender will try to break you. You mustn’t let that hinder your escape. You are smart, be prepared. Wear the mask of your courtesies like I never could. And we will meet again very soon. Underfoot…_

“Little Bird…” He whispered, taking a sip of what she assumed was ale from his canteen. “You look ready to fly away from your cage.”

Sansa paused and looked him in the eyes, somehow she knew it would be him. She must be brave. She knew more truths about the world than she cared to know. But they would help her survive, they would help her see her family again. The small slip of paper she had found amongst her small clothes days after her father’s execution had given her more bravery than she thought possible.

She had not thought of her little sister and her whereabouts after their father’s death. But then again, she had not thought of anything beyond the sight, smell, and sound of that horrid moment. The taste of iron and bile in the air before the world went black. And a tiny note hidden away in a place only she would look. That had been there for how long, she did not know. It had reminded her of the first truth. Something she had forgotten upon heading south. That she was a wolf, a rather clever one at that. And wolves were brave.

“You won’t hurt me.” She muttered, a statement of truth and for a moment both knew it for what it was.

“No, I won’t.” He replied looking at her curiously.

“Then let’s go somewhere that isn’t on fire…” She said softly, pushing another bag of provisions into his hands. She moves then, towards the exit, a breath attempting to exhale all her fears leaves her lips. She comes to a stop when her hand reaches the door. “I am grateful, Ser Sandor, that you are what I have standing between me and Joffrey and the rest of the world. Under the protection of no other would I feel as safe, even if it is an illusion…”

The Hound gave her a rather pained look, a bit too contemplative for his face. “I’m no ser Little Bird, and I’m not sure who’s been feeding you the truth but you don’t have to make it sound so depressing. I’ve not enough ale for such sentiments.”

Sansa gave him a genuine smile as he moved to exit first, drawing his sword with little effort. She stopped him with a gentle hand before she whispered another truth. “You are no one’s dog.” And with that the pair slipped into the night.

_I know, I saw the look of disquiet when it happened. And I still love you. But I am safe. I will make it home on the wings of a crow, a friend. And one night when the sky is filled with smoke, she will be spirited away too. And you won’t have to fight anymore. Rest, truly rest. I promise we will all be alright. When the snows fall and the white wind blows, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives._

He had followed her when he let her leave what he assumed would be the tomb of the women of the Red Keep. She had fled with a purpose, like she had a plan. And if she needed him he would be there because she was the only reason he was still here. The only reason he could fathom being cursed to this silent body.

He watched from afar as she reappeared on a dais connected to her rooms. She was quietly helped off it and into the shadows by a large figure. The pair stuck close to the walls before rounding into the courtyard.

He could see the bundles both carried, even in the dim light. And she was not being tugged along, she followed with purpose. It was the first time, in a while, he had seen her posture so relaxed and sure. His little girl had planned her escape, he mused. Much like her dark-haired little sister before her.

He felt a familiar smile overtake his face, one that did not match the skin it was appearing on, but one that was his all the same. ‘ _They will be alright. They will meet again…_ ’ It was bittersweet and tragic. The wolves had escaped the South, all but him. But they were more important, he had already died. And now he realized just how tired he was.

He entered his room and lit a small fire. A small scrap of paper covered in the messy script of a child was the first bit of fuel added, but only after he brought it to his lips in a lingering kiss. He then sat before the flames watching them twist and turn for quite some time. Ignoring the destruction of all things around him. Thinking only of the summer snows of the North and a family he was sure would soon be safe. ‘ _So tired…_ ’ He was fading into an unknown darkness, but somehow it felt like home.

There was a dark flapping of raven’s wings and a whisper of greeting. ‘ _A god would offer you rest, it is not a favor but a gift. A girl will have softer dreams knowing that the one she loves so much is at peace._ ’

‘ _Yes…_ ’ He found himself saying, his voice almost foreign to his ears. ‘ _Yes, I would like that…_ ’

‘ _Then sleep Eddard Stark… Your family is safe, and you have done all you can…_ ’ The voice whispered, tugging him gently into the void.

Far away and curled upon herself beneath a canopy of stars a lovely girl sleeps. Deep within a wonderful dream, filled with laughter and love and silver eyes that mirror her own. A kiss upon her cheek, a whisper of her name. She smiles though she weeps, a whisper to the night. “Father…”


	8. Chapter 8

“It is not my intention to cause alarm, your grace. But I tell you what I overheard from King’s Landing and men from the Twins. I cannot help but think that something wicked this way comes.” The middle aged dark haired soldier whispered in a deep Northern accent. He was still kneeling before Robb. He had a silent scar outlining the side of his face; the kind people wished to ask about, but lacked the courage to do so.

The man finally looked up at his liege when Grey Wind sniffed him cautiously. The wolf laid by the man’s side and let out a yawn. Robb stopped himself from pacing and dismissed his guards. He motioned for the man to be at ease though he eyed his wolf curiously. A strange amount of trust offered to a man who the wolf had only just met. The young king shook his auburn head attempting to ground himself to the moment.

Robb Stark looked as tired as he felt, which was in no way a flattering occurrence. With the wedding of his uncle so near, these allegations felt as though they could age him another dozen years. “You must understand that what you are saying is…”

“The word from the Red Keep is what it is, your grace. The whispers are that both princesses have escaped. Depending on the time frame they would be headed either here or to Winterfell…”

“They are both only girls, children, the idea of either escaping…” Robb muttered as he forced himself to douse the hope. It would do no good if it all were untrue. He could not handle such heart ache.

“Mayhaps they had allies…” The man offered his eyes flickering to the tent flap as if awaiting something.

“At least one did.” A voice called into tent as the flap was thrown back. An older man entered with Catelyn Stark at his heels.

“Robb, you remember Yoren, of the Night’s Watch…” Catelyn said rushing over to her son. He gave her a forced nod, still not forgetting the discontent she had sewn in the camp by her plotting. But she was his mother, and he did love her. Also, it seemed that this new guest had rather important information. Otherwise his guards would not have allowed his mother in his presence.

The new man, dressed in the black of a crow, bowed with a bit of effort. He seemed to be healing from some injuries. But he still offered the King of the North a wry grin.

“Well met…” Robb said offering a smile to the man. “What is it that you were saying Ser Yoren?”

“Just Yoren, your grace. But the little princess… Arya… She left King’s Landing with me right after your father was murdered. She came right up to me, dressed as a young lad, had attached whiskers to her face with tree sap… Clever little thing.” Yoren said with a light laugh and a fond gaze.

“So, you have her then?” Robb asked as he felt his mother pull on his sleeve, possibly motioning for him to be quiet until the entire story was told.

“No, we were travelling with a Baratheon bastard, one of the last of his kind if Cersei saw to it as she did. Cersei’s idiots came for him, the rest of us were caught in the crossfire. I lost track of her at God’s Head. And was taken out of commission for a time so my wounds from that battle could heal…”

“Wait so…”

“Robb, let the man finish.” Catelyn Stark said urging Yoren through his story. She seemed to be brimming with something Robb couldn’t identify. That was the reason, he told himself, that he let her speak to him in such a matter.

“I retraced my steps, and then followed theirs, when I was well enough to do so. I found myself at Harrenhal…” Yoren let out a sigh. “Seems that four boys presumably escaped after a rather violent show… A kitchen hand, a dyer, a smith, and Tywin Lannister’s very own cup bearer. I’d let you guess the description of the cup bearer but I assume you two know the princess better than I…” Yoren said with another light chuckle. He then continued. “The keep did not have enough staff on hand to form a search since Tywin had already left. They would be somewhere in between there and Winterfell. Though I told her to keep to herself, she had acquired some friends that matched the description of the other escapees. I am quite sure they would protect each other.”

“Robb, if she hadn’t heard of the wedding, she would head home, otherwise she would make her way here…” Lady Catelyn said with a hopeful smile. “Your father let her look over maps constantly so she could picture where battles were fought. They thought I didn’t know, but she was far more behaved afterwards so I let them have it. I don’t doubt that she would know the road to get here or to Winterfell…”

“Princess Arya was convinced that whoever helped her escape the castle was simply waiting for a big enough distraction to spirit Princess Sansa away as well. After all, Princess Sansa was far more visible, even standing next to Lord Stark during that entire ordeal… Stannis made that distraction.” Yoren said confidently.

“And now there are reports that both princesses are nowhere to be found in King’s Landing.” The solider from early offered up, allowing the group to put all the information together on their own.

“We hadn’t the time for her to give me more detail about her savior, so I am unsure as to who the oldest would be travelling with.” Yoren muttered. He had a gaze as if trying to call forth every word Arya had uttered in his presence. But nothing helpful came to mind.

Robb sighed. “I need this kept quiet until they are found. I will send out a few men to search the Riverlands for Arya and her companions. It is my hope that Sansa will arrive soon, either here or at Winterfell…” Robb said quietly watching hope spread across his mother’s face for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. “It is good that this is settled…” He paused for a moment his blue eyes capturing his mother’s. “I am glad that you are here mother, I need your expertise on the Freys.”

“I am not sure what I have to offer…” Catelyn Stark said softly her eyes still alight at the dream of finally having her daughters home and safe. “But I will offer what knowledge that I can…”

Robb nodded turning all his attention to his mother. “There may be a devious plot underfoot. There are rumors that the Freys plan to ambush us all during the peaceful wedding and let rivers of blood flow. Would you think that this is beyond them?” He asked.

“I-I…” Catelyn’s brow furrowed and her voice softened. “I would not call the honor of the Freys into question; however, Walder Frey has been slighted. It would be a foolish to put such a thing past him.” Robb gave her a rather surprised look and she continued, her hands fluttering. “But I did not think it wise to tell you such things. I know you are wroth with me for my dealings with Jamie Lannister. I did not want to see you abandon me completely.”

Robb seemed a bit stunned at this confession. “You couldn’t honestly believe that I would…”

“Your grace, I only have a bit more of intel before I should take my leave.” The solider interrupted bringing all attention back to himself. Robb nodded encouraging. “The treachery is supposed forge a union of the Lannister, Frey, and Bolton houses. For their part the Freys would unseat the Tullys in the Riverlands. And the Boltons, the Starks in the North. The plan is to play the Lannister march "The Rains of Castamere" to begin which would quite possibly be a slaughter. This will all take place after the ceremony and the bedding of course. It is to be a nighttime ambush.”

The room was quiet as the words hung in the air. Robb muttered something under his breath and then looked at the soldier. “If you would be so kind as to tell the guards to call my high council together, you would be doing me a great service…”

“Of course, your grace.” The dark-haired man replied, bowing deep before exiting the tent. Yoren followed suit muttering a proper goodnight before slipping out into the night air.

“I will take my leave as well Robb…” Catelyn Stark said softly.

“Mother wait, I need you. The Freys wish to play a game, and pretend their courtesies are true. But none know them as well as you. Not having you in this meeting would be a determent. Especially with all that has been revealed.”

“You do me a great honor Robb… I shall not disappoint.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Thoros of Myr, a word by your flames?” Arya asked politely while most of the men were in their cups. Gendry was keeping a wary eye on her from across the cave, though he was giving her a bit of freedom since their latest capture. One in which she revealed herself to be a girl, much to the chagrin of Gendry who thought he could keep an eye on her with more ease if she was still pretending to be a boy.

The red priest tilted his head carefully to the side and sized her up. He moved to his hearth and felt her settle next to him, eerily still. “Should I know you?”

“No… but perhaps your flames do… You’ve brought Ser Beric back five times. The sixth is on the horizon, there will not be a seventh.” She informed him staring deep into the flames.

The red priest snorted. “I do the Red God’s will girl… What do you know of it?”

“I answer to No One, and made a fair trade. Ser Beric will find the lull of the darkness even more compelling this time. Stoneheart will not rise, he is not needed. Look and see…” She whispered pressing a pin into her finger and dripping her blood into the flames.

Thoros became alarmed. “Goodness girl, what are you doing?” He tried to grab at her injured finger but she swatted him away.

“A message from a different god, seek and you shall find it in the flames.” She muttered standing and making her way back to her companion.

She had barely walked three paces when she heard him gently breathe out, “Stark…” She half turned to find him utterly entranced by his flames. A small smile kissed the end of her lips.

That night the Hound was found innocent and Ser Beric died once again. Arya had the good sense to not be seen by Sandor Clegane not wanting him to ruin any of her plans, especially since it was known that he had a travel companion that had escaped upon his capture. One he seemed eager to return to. One she knew she would be able to identify if given the chance.

Thoros of Myr came to her that night while all others slept, pulling her away by her hand from the corner she and Gendry occupied. Out into the night air they went, where their words would be of no use to anyone. “Stark...” He muttered looking at her curiously. She nodded, eyebrow raised. “I should have known, I met your aunt. You have her look abouts you. The look of the North.”

“I’ve been told… Howland Reed found it quite difficult to look upon me when I was a teenager. A mirror of long dead regrets…” She said a flicker of silent empathy flashing within her gaze.

The two stood in silence. A defeated sigh broke it. “So, you’d have me believe it then? The confusing whispers of the flames…” The man’s eyes seemed unfocused as the strange knowledge washed over him again.

She let out a slight laugh before making a rather strange apology. “Probably more confusing than needed. He is Lorathi for now, has been such for far too long. I hope he spoke to you with less riddles than he did me. I hope you saw that the war is not here. This is not what will doom us all…”

“I saw flickers and images… Whispers that there is a time that was before and after. One that was never and cannot be… In the flames, Death kneeled before you and kissed your palm. He handed you the faces of a thousand ages.” Thoros spoke shaking his head. “Then the ice was screaming behind the Wall. The dead waking. A king of ice and death awakening from a long slumber to seek his crown. He too whispers ‘ _Stark’_ , though it sounds like the cracking of glaciers under the summer sun.”

Arya felt her jaw set as she mused on the vision he of the many faces had sent to this disciple of R’hllor. She did not remember all she promised a god, and she did not let herself dream of that time for both of their sakes. But to offer such a gift to her, even as a symbol in flames cultured by her blood, it left her disconcerted. She shook the feeling off, the time for those thoughts would be later.

“I made a deal to try again…” She muttered. “To try and prepare this world for the true winter, so that maybe this time the world will not fall. But it is not a task I can undertake on my own.”

The red priest let out a chuckle, his voice turning to a mocking tone. “And what would you have me do little lady? I have had enough trials trying to follow my own faith, to do as R’hllor commands. You show me another and ask me to forsake my faith for this god of death. For what, death beneath a mound of snow?”

“I ask you ser to do no such thing.” Arya seethed, her eyes flashing. Her true age shining through her gaze like a beacon of knowledge, experience, and heart ache. “I ask you to help me move our story forward and nudge it so that the next time I am with child, it does not find its coffin in my womb on a frozen battlefield as wights and others sing songs of deepest winter.”

A tense silence settled between the two for a moment as Thoros tried not to give her a look of pity. She did not seem the type who would appreciate such a thing. He sighed. “I mean no disrespect, but you must understand what you are asking…”

“I’ve asked nothing of you yet. It would have been better if you had waited for my requests…” Arya let out a quiet breath as she pushed away the raw emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. “Ser Beric is the price, the void is peace, a gift. He will want rest, it is my duty to give it to him…”

“If Beric is gone the Brotherhood would have no leader, no mission. Who would you have take charge then? Not I.”

“Anguy can lead. He is respected, they will follow his voice. You are needed elsewhere. You are needed at the Wall…” Arya inwardly cursed as her fingers fluttered. She hadn’t the strength to pull No One to her, she would just have to feel. She half way wished for the fondness that Thoros held for her in another lifetime. It seemed like this was a battle, one she was growing weary of. “My brother has king’s blood, for he is not truly my brother…”

She looked off into the darkness and worried her lip before speaking again. “You don’t see it now, because it is not your memory. But I was quite fond of you, even after you betrayed Gendry, betrayed me. I took your name from my list. An honor, the only kind I knew how to offer at the time. Melisandre, the red woman, comes. And I would rather the Prince that was Promised owe you a boon than she. I’d rather a friend be at Jon’s side.”

The red priest’s eyes softened at the utter truth spilling from Arya’s lips. “You must understand, Beric is my friend, little lady. I’ve seen him come and go. Is it selfish for me to wish him to stay?”

“Yes…” She whispered locking her winter grey eyes with his. “But it is also human… In another time, my mother found death and Beric brought her back after you refused. He is tired but there will be no Stoneheart to raise from the dead, to grant him finality, and peace. I cannot stop the tragedy that is to befall my brother, it will make him what he is meant to be. He has to be risen from the flames, another thing I cannot change. But I can ask that you awaken him instead… Please, this thing is beyond us… But it still means something…”

“Things you cannot change?” Thoros questioned.

“A father’s blood price, to start a war, to move a story forward. He was lost to me twice, Eddard Stark. But this time at least I was able to say goodbye.”

Thoros felt his throat dry before he nodded. “There is a duty to the realm that needs to be done. And you have entrusted it to me, I’d be a fool and a coward to not fight, to not do my duty. I will leave when Beric rests.”

Arya let out a sigh and gave the man a small sad smile. “I have one more request, take Gendry with you… And keep Melisandre away from him and my brother. There is power in King’s blood, but make her search harder for her prize. They both deserve fewer nightmares.”

“The boy will not leave your side…” Thoros said with a chuckle, lightening the darkened mood.

She shook her head with an almost resentful smirk. “He would though, because he seeks the type of redemption that the vision of me as a highborn cannot offer. He wants to stay here and smith for the Brotherhood. But he cannot because she will find him. You’ll learn more in the flames, he of the many faces has promised me.”

“A little lady has made Death promise her things.”

“And a man has made Fire whisper to him. Are we not the same? Our gods listen to us and answer…”

Thoros sighed and looked at her curiously. “It would seem that way, but your god is made of flesh and bone…”

“He wears many faces, never one for too long…” Arya whispered. “Flesh is just another mask, I’ve seen him in the void…”

“At what cost?”

“I still don’t completely know…”


	10. Chapter 10

In a time that was never…

It wasn’t that Arya Stark thought she would never step foot on Braavosi sand again, it was that she hadn’t expected it to be under such duress. The young woman had suddenly found herself in a rather strange predicament as her brother found he was her cousin and relinquished the crown of the North to her. It was an occurrence that did not seem to please Sansa, but the fact that Robb had written the oldest Stark girl out of his inheritance was now well known.

In Arya’s defense however, she did not want it. Blood stained crowns and thrones all the same. She preferred to be unseen, and as the last in the line of Ned Stark’s children she never thought a crown would grace her head. She needed to find Bran. But searching beyond the wall was a suicide mission, at the moment, which brought her back to the present.

Arya carefully pushed open the door and entered into the House of Black and White. There was silence in the temple, something that was not uncommon and she found it strangely calming. The Queen of the North took silent steps towards the pool. She kneeled gracefully at its edge, admiring the reflection of her face in its depths for a time. Then she leaned forward before cupping her hands together and bringing a bit of the dark liquid to her mouth for a drink.

“She returns and tests to see if she is still worthy…” A soft voice called. “It seems the new queen is just so…”

“Waif…” Arya said with a raised brow. “No change in you yet.”

“And I needn’t a mask for such a thing, a skill you do not have your grace.” The waif let out a light chuckle when Arya rolled her eyes. “A girl is a woman, a queen, and yet she is so far from that which she would call home. You are quite capable of giving the gift on your own, as I am aware. So, what brings you here? You left with as close to a blessing as any of us can wish for.”

Arya Stark tilted her head to the side carefully before muttering. “Kindly Man knows about many things. There is something I need to speak to him about…”

“You come across the sea for questions? An oddity, your grace. Surely there are others to which you could have asked your questions.” The waif said cautiously, shifting towards the inner sanctum. She motioned for Arya to follow.

“None who would know as much…” Arya started before the waif grabbed her hand and looked her in the eye. “The walls listen?”

“In most places…” The waif replied. “Kindly Man is not the one you seek. He is a front, the one who knows the secrets of all the faces, the one who is fond of you, is not here. Has not been here in a while…”

Arya expertly flipped her wrist out of the waif’s grasp. The child looking woman let out a light chuckle at the move. “The one who is…”

“You gave him a name that he gave to you…”

The grey eyed woman frowned before muttering the name of a girl’s friend. “Jaqen H’ghar…”

The waif smiled. “You are a bit brighter than when I last saw you. It is different. One supposes it comes with age. You will not get your answers here she-wolf. And you have forsaken the many-faced god even after he offered you more than any other.”

“I did not forsake him of the many faces. I simply left the temple. I continue to offer. I continue to serve.” Arya argued. “I keep the secrets of our House. I keep the faces bonded to this body’s blood, I am me and no one all the same.”

“Just so, a no one named Arya Stark. But you did not ask him to take your leave. He gave you a coin, his coin. It was not offered lightly. It is why I said it was not earned. You did not understand the value of that coin. The oldest of them all. The first of the line…”

“You speak in riddles… As if the god and a man with a name I gave him are one in the same…” She paused as the look of disbelief that clouded her features morphed into a look of shock.

“Not the same but like the coin of the same being.” The waif sighed out almost impatiently, ignoring the look of shock on Arya’s face. “But such things are neither here nor there. I will wear a face for you Arya of the house Stark for we are still sisters. What would you need to know? I shall wear a brother’s face and give you that knowledge.”

The Queen of the North found herself slipping into the mask of no one. The emotions she had been feeling were useless as emotions often were. For now, she needed to absorb information. “A woman would know all that is known of the others and the last long night…”

The waif gave her a crooked grin. “A girl can offer that knowledge but a woman must have the time. But there is a price for no one.”

“A price is a thing that shall be paid from sister to sister.” No one replied with a stiff nod.

“Never wear this face, it has secrets that are not for this no one.” The waif said settling down upon the stone floor. No one followed suit. “And never whisper to another that I can summon it.”

“This is a price a woman can pay.”

“Good, then let us have a chat…” And with a light wave of her hand the waif became Jaqen H’ghar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, any time I start a chapter with "In a time that was never" it will reference the original story line in which Arya became the last Stark.


	11. Chapter 11

Daenerys Targaryen found herself in a rather odd predicament as she sat upon the cool grass of the forest, her fingers gently weaving patterns into the head of a girl she did not know. The unknown girl was humming softly to herself, weaving a crown of flowers, seeming at ease with the intimate position the two had found themselves in. A fire roared a bit off in the distance behind a wall, but the night sky was particularly bright. A large oak sat behind them, a whispering brook its company.

Daenerys paused as only fractured memories came to her mind, none strong enough to explain any of this. A wolf howled in the distance, the sound seemed misplaced.

“I am sorry, I have seemingly found myself in an odd place…” She muttered, her hands attempting to settle into her lap only to be obstructed by her rather large belly. She stared at the obtrusive bump confused, something off putting about her being swollen with child. But she couldn’t put it to words.

_When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east…_

“This must be confusing, but I suppose between us this was a favorable memory. My mother never had the patience that you had for my hair…” The young girl muttered turning to face Daenerys. “But when we met it had been many years since you had been with child…” Grey eyes smiled at her as dark curls bounced around a long face.

“I’m sorry but do I know…”

“We haven’t much time Dany.” The pale girl interrupted before taking the Khaleesi’s hands in her own. “This was a favor from a wolf, Death, and the wind he swears I am. The closest place to his realm is a dream…” Again a wolf howled in the distance.

“This is a dream? But…”

“Please…” The young girl pleaded her expression becoming a bit pained. “I can’t save Drogo… And I am sorry.”

Daenerys ripped her hands away before backing away hurriedly, she found her back pressed against the oak. “Why? What have you done to him?” Her eyes narrowed as she thought of harm coming to her sun-and-stars.

The dark-haired girl looked appalled and hurt at the same moment. “I’ve done nothing, but he will succumb to his wounds. His sacrifice is needed as was my father’s. There are things that need to be set into motion. The realm needs dragons of flesh and scale…”

“Why are you telling me this?! Dragons are long gone!” Daenerys cried hotly, her mind racing as a faded memory of Drogo falling from his horse flittered through her mind. “I have to save him, he is everything, my sun-and-stars!”

The girl ignored her words and instead walked forward and placed a hand carefully on the protruding belly of the Khaleesi. Daenerys was so confused by the loving yet pained look that the stranger afforded her she couldn’t react.

“I wanted you to not have that look of loss in your eyes but there is always a price. I wanted you to have your son, that is something I can give… Closer to me than blood you were once Mother of Dragons, a girl would never forget such a debt or a friend.”

They stood in relative quiet, the wind caressing them both. The smaller girl looked up and whispered. “The price is your sun-and-stars and that your son will not be the stallion who mounts the world, but instead the dragon who watches over it.”

The pale Khaleesi shivered as tears fell gently from her eyes. “Who are you?”

“A friend… I promise I will find you, we just need time. I wish you would remember me though…” The woman whispered before placing a kiss on Daenerys’s temple by pushing up on her toes. “But I suppose that is up to you when you… WAKE UP!”

Daenerys gasped for air and forced herself to sit up. It was dark but she could hear the pained breaths of Drogo next to her. Her stomach was round and set to burst soon. She knew if she went outside she would find that they had been abandoned by most. She sat next to Drogo for a long while, tears running down her cheeks. “I love you, and shall never love again as much as I love you.” She brushed a bit of his hair from his fevered forehead. Then she lay down next to him, curling into his side. “What man could hope to rival Khal Drogo, who will die with his hair uncut and ride through the night lands, the stars as his khalasar?”

She sat up quietly. “Even like this, it was good to see you again…” She muttered before leaning forward and kissing him gently. Her fingers clutched at the pillow as she held it over his face, tears running freely down her cheeks, but this time she did not sob. When he lay still, she quietly collected herself, and made her way outside into the sunshine.

“Khaleesi…” Jorah started when she appeared to the small group that remained. He looked half ashamed. “I was going to…”

Daenerys held up her hand for him to stop. “A funeral pyre needs to be built, Drogo is dead. And if you would, bring me Mirri Maz Duur.”

Jorah gave her a strange look before muttering, “At once.” Within a few minutes the woman appeared with Jorah.

“Leave us for a moment please…” She said softly. Jorah nodded and reluctantly turned away, most likely to spread the news of the Khal’s death to those left.

“Your eyes have aged many a year in one night…” The maegi said suspiciously.

“The stallion who mounts the world will burn no cities now. His khalasar shall trample no nations into dust…” Daenerys said softly to the woman. “I was told that once, long ago… In a time not here or there but it was in this place, it was about my son.”

Mirri’s frowned before her eyes widened. “You have been kissed by Death girl! Thrown where you do not belong! This is not the way of the gods!” She pulled a knife from within her clothes and lunged at Daenerys, barely missing her, before being apprehended by Aggo.

A silver head tilted slightly. “I cannot forgive you for past transgressions. My sun-and-stars no longer takes breath. But my son will.” Daenerys placed her hand carefully on her stomach before looking at Aggo. “A red star will streak across the sky in the coming days. That is when we will burn Drogo, that is when we will burn the witch.”

Mirri struggled against Aggo before spitting at Daenerys’s feet. “You are cursed.”

“Only with memories…” She replied before turning on her heel to help prepare Drogo for his pyre.

A few days later as a red star streaked across the sky, Daenerys Targaryen became the Unburnt and birthed her son Rhaego in the fire of his father’s prye. When the flames died down she sat covered in soot, nursing a small dark little boy, as four dragons settled around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in this story, when Dany birthed Rhaego, he came out clutching another dragon egg which is why there are 4 dragons. The 4th, in my head, is a split of the "mutant" from the human parts that where seen in Rhaego when he was stillborn. I'm not sure when I will have time to explain that in story so i just put it out there.


	12. Chapter 12

“Valar morghulis…” Arya whispered sweetly to the wind as she took a moment to watch the smoke rise into the air, the last of Beric and his legacy. If she was lucky it would take a moment for Gendry to notice her absence. After all she had taken the time to fabricate an altercation with him, one that in another time had chased her into the Hound’s trap. But if she had calculated correctly, the Hound would be long gone with Sansa by now, hopefully already to Robb.

Arya pulled the hood of her cloak over her head before continuing down her path, her steps light leaving no trail. The small satchel she carried had enough food to last her the trip to Winterfell and then to the wall. She tried her hardest to go over conversations she once had with her brother Bran and his wife Meera. Trying to remember the exact timeline of him leaving Winterfell after it was sacked by Theon and his idiots. But they were so long ago. Even so, Arya needed to make haste, she owed a man names at Winterfell for lives saved elsewhere. And she still had to locate her brothers and accompany Bran beyond the wall. Arya sighed as she continued up the lonely road meeting no one for her first two nights of travel. The third day however held promise that came within a dream.

Arya Stark stood alone in a snow blanketed landscape, wind whipping her hair gently as the beating of drums sang a dark tune ahead. The young woman had barely enough time to realize that she had grown back to her original height before she set off towards a bonfire that was blazing in a clearing.

As she neared it she noticed two things. The first was that there was a ring of nude red women dancing manically around the fire. The second was the tall being of ice that stood a few feet away from them pressing his hand against an unseen barrier. Arya’s eyes widened as she recognized the frozen figure. “Night King…” She whispered. She took a step back and all movement stopped.

The Night King’s eyes bored into her as the group of women stared blankly in her direction, their dance forgotten. “ _Stark!_ ” The Night King bellowed like cracking glaciers. The red women began to shriek and tear their hair from their scalps. The drums became louder and faster paced. A lone wolf howled in the distance. A raven with three eyes circled overhead, its call adding to the sounds that reverberated through the darkened night.

Her heart began to race as she backed up from the now advancing frozen figure. The crashing of icicles sounded with every step the Night King made towards her. “ _Stark!_ ” The snowscape trembled with his call.

As she swiveled on her foot and prepared to take off into the tree line in the distance, she ran into a figure. She would have lost her balance had it not gripped at her waist, steadying her. “Dream of another place…” he of the many faces said pulling her forward and away from the Night King. “Arya Stark is not of the Glade. A warrior should be sleeping, running wild within a wolf, a warrior should not be here…”

“I… What?”

“Another place quickly, where else would Arya Stark rather be?” He asked his eternal eyes capturing hers.

“Home.” She muttered and with a rush of wind the two found themselves standing in the inner sanctum of the House of Black and White. Remnants of snow fluttered around them, a whisper of the Night King’s final call reverberated around the temple.

Arya let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding before she felt the pressure of a hand caressing her cheek. “Lovely warrior there has already been a warning. This thing we do… it is not safe to dream so freely…”

“Where were we? Why was the Night King there? What was the bonfire for? Why…” Her questions were stopped as lips pressed gently against hers. She pulled back in shock, her cheeks reddened, her eyes widened, an almost forgotten warmth pooled in her gut.

“Sweet wind, deny this one all things but a kiss…” He of the many faces whispered, eternity once again staring at her. She could feel herself drowning, leaning into his essence, sinking into the void. She had never felt so alone and fulfilled at once.

“I shouldn’t be here…” She says softly pulling herself back out. Reminding herself that it is for both of their sakes.

“But here and there a warrior travels, like a breeze to the next battle…” He whispers, his fingers twisting a lock of her hair.

“Where was that place?” She asks, her fingers grasping at his wrist, stilling the soothing motion of this fingertips.

“It was in-between… The Glade… Where the awakened elements exist and the sleeping rest. It is where this one sleeps when an avatar wanders. The Night King throws the balance, of the water but desiring the destruction of the fire and the darkness of the void.” The many-faced god said gently, pulling Arya to an alcove in the temple where they both sat down.

“The gods both old and new are the same. But they sleep and dream, or war and ravage in another land, their own, the Glade. All elements have a place, a balance, and have been given another name, the Seven. Arya Stark is a warrior, Arya Stark is the wind…”

“I can’t be, this can’t be…”

“The elements sleep within all man, most never feel the stir of the awakening. But such an odd thing we do lovely warrior, such an odd bond forged with this one’s only friend.” He whispered as a wolf’s howl was heard through the temple. He smiled at her, his darkened wizened gaze softening. “This one finds honor in Arya Stark thinking this temple is home.”

Arya looked away then, her cheeks reddening making her feel foolish. “It was home once… And I did find myself missing it when the North turned its gaze to me, after I had spent so much time being a shadow. There is a solace in being unknown. I missed it, and in another time, if my sister hadn’t betrayed me, and the Night King hadn’t brought Westeros to heel, I would have returned if only for a while.”

“A sweet sentiment if only it is such to this one. Arya Stark would avoid this one given the chance, being stalked by the void, death, eternity… But not before the time owed to you Arya Stark shall I capture the essence that is into the darkness.” Arya gave him a rather strange look, and opened her mouth to argue, but was interrupted. “A warrior has a companion, searching and near, howling. Time to find her.”

He gently pushed her backwards and she felt herself floating for a moment. “Please do not think this one selfish. But I… will keep these memories of this time only for now.” And then his lips were upon hers and she was falling backwards into nothing.

Arya awoke with a start, the dream fleeing her mind even as she tried to grasp at it. The only remnant left was a whisper to not dream so freely. She stretched a bit, careful to not fall from the tree she had slept in for the night. She ran her chilled fingers through her hair, noting that she would need to either cut her locks or braid them back better if she wished to continue travelling pretending to be a young boy.

She stilled for a moment, ears pert, listening for what had destroyed her slumber. And it only took a moment before the lone howl was heard. “Nymeria…” She breathed gathering her supplies and making her way to the ground as a chorus of other wolves joined in. When she finally landed on the ground she simply waited. The chorus and stopped and a shuffling could be heard and then through the trees, Nymeria appeared carrying a newborn pup by the cuff.

She walked forward to Arya before placing the white ball of fluff at her feet. She then proceeded to shower Arya in kisses. Tears ran down Arya’s face as she whispered muffled, ‘I missed you’ and ‘I love you’ to her furry counterpart.

When their greetings were finished Arya looked down at the tiny direwolf pup that sat carefully before Nymeria and Arya watching the scene. The tiny white pup looked to be a mix of wolf and direwolf, her paws not as big as any of Nym’s litter had been, but she was obviously going to grow larger than the average wolf. She was completely white except for the tip of her tail and her front two paws which were a coppery red.

“You found another direwolf?” Arya asked as Nymeria nuzzled her hand lovingly. “For a sister lost…” Arya muttered the shared thought of a recent wolf dream falling from her lips.

Arya nodded and whispered, “A girl has a debt to pay in Winterfell. But a girl has a sister to save in Riverrun. Shall a girl and her wolf make a detour?” Nymeria and her tiny ward both let out soft yips of approval. “Good, then let us march towards the time of change…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit anti-climatic but I needed the set up for the next chapter. See you soon.


	13. Chapter 13

Sansa Stark was not sure what she expected when she had found herself wrapped in the safety of her mother’s embrace after an ordeal that she had been sure would see her dead. She hadn’t expected to see her brother attempt to put the Hound to steel, but she had quickly put a stop to that nonsense. The Hound had brought her to her family, the Hound had been a complete gentleman, the Hound had been an awkward friend. Sandor was now her personal guard, a title that didn’t sit well with her mother or Robb but she would be damned if they would send away the only semblance of safety she had managed to find in the South. They had not been there to protect her, he had.

She had been heartbroken to find that Arya had not made it to their brother and mother before she arrived. But she found solace in the thought that the younger Stark might be making her way towards Winterfell instead. Winterfell, it seemed like a distant dream. Currently Sansa was checking her belongings for the trip to that forgotten dream.

There were many words about the camp as the army prepared for the wedding of her Uncle Edmure to Rosalin Frey. But these words had become whispers, and the whispers were secret. But Sansa knew the game, a bit too intimately now, and something seemed amiss. She would not be attending the wedding of her uncle. Instead, she and her new good sister were being escorted back to Winterfell. News of an odd scuffle had reached them, and none had heard a true word from Bran. So, they were to return home, a small regent with them for their protection.

Sansa sighed as she made her way out of her temporary quarters in Riverrun and down to the courtyard. She carefully shooed Sandor away, who had taken to guarding her until she completely retired for the evening. He gave her a rather short nod before turning towards the makeshift tavern where drunken songs could be heard like the distant beating of drums. She sat quietly before the small statues of the seven. Her auburn head bowed in prayer before the mother and the maiden wishing for safe passage for the little sister who reminded her that she too was a wolf.

The young Stark was unsure as to how long she sat there in quiet meditation but she knew exactly what pulled her from the trance she had been in. There was a soft rustling to her left, followed by a rather prim sounding yelp. Sansa stood quickly backing away until she felt herself press against a firm yet furry _wall_. Her breath caught in her throat.

Sansa Stark would have liked to think that when placed in immediate danger her lungs would always work properly. She, of course, learned at that moment such a thought was particularly useless as she managed to let out an un-lady like squeak before twisting around and falling to the ground. As the dust settled she found herself looking into eyes the shade of a golden sunrise. A gentle whisper fell from her lips. “Nymeria?”

The rather large wolf eyed her carefully, almost with a human amount of consideration. She then gently placed her nose to Sansa’s now exposed ankle, checking for injury. The Stark girl stared in awe before tears graced her cheeks. Suddenly she threw herself at the wolf, her arms wrapped around her large neck. “Oh to the gods, Nymeria, I thought you were just as lost as Lady!” The large direwolf let out a almost playful yip leaning into the embrace. Sansa smiled pressing her head gently to the wolf’s and looking in her eyes. “Have you found her? Have you found Arya? She isn’t here…”

The wolf of course didn’t answer but pressed her muzzle against Sansa’s neck. The red headed Stark sighed before muttering. “Of course not, she would be with you, if she found you…” Sansa stopped when she heard a little yip behind her. She turned carefully to find a small pup sitting daintily behind her, copper tail swishing happily.

Sansa blinked her Tully blue eyes before leaning down slowly to examine the little wolf. She was being quite hesitant before Nymeria nudged her forward. “Did you… bring me a friend… is she your sister, like my Lady?” Sansa asked hearing her voice choking up as the small pup tentatively came forward and licked her outstretched hand. Sansa felt herself sit upon the ground as she became overwhelmed with emotion.

Nymeria let out a light bark before turning back the way she came, her delivery obviously a success. The pup let out a soft whine to which Nymeria turned around and groomed the top of her head for a few moments, giving the pup a bit of comfort. The little pup then carefully stepped into Sansa’s lap to get better access to the chin she wished to douse in kisses. Nymeria nodded and once again began to leave.

“Wait…” Sansa whispered surprised that the large direwolf stopped and turned to her. Once again, she caught a glimmer of what seemed like an almost human emotion. “I did not protect Lady as I should have. If I hadn’t been so foolish she wouldn’t have had such a bitter fate. But you have trusted me with your kin, and I will never let her suffer that harsh fate.” Sansa then let go as tears began to run down her cheeks and she hugged the pup to her chest, her second chance. Nymeria disappeared into the foliage leaving a sobbing Sansa to compose herself.

“You know little one…” Sansa said softly. “You are a bit bigger than Lady was when I first met her… And I know only a few pretty words in Valyrian, but I think this will suit you. How about Daria… For queen?” Sansa whispered as the pup yipped happily at her. Sansa let out a light laugh. “I’m glad you like it.”

Unbeknownst to her Sansa was being watched by a pair of grey eyes. Arya sat quietly on the roof watching her sister with a slight smile. She stayed there for a while, enjoying the intimacy of the moment before finding her way back down to the ground. Her fingers gently caressed a small scrap of paper she had procured from the empty tent of a solider no one had seen leave. She looked down at it reading the carefully scrawled name before tossing it into the flames of a nearby fire. “ _Ramsey Snow_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit short but Arya is on a mission. And it isn't the one that is obvious. She'll be catching up so someone very soon.


	14. Chapter 14

Jojen Reed seemed rather uncomfortable by the fire light. The group was now camped next to a ruined farm house maybe two days walk from the Wall. Osha had become more anxious as they got further north, never truly trusting the Reed children. And Jojen’s current behavior was doing nothing to put her at ease. He was constantly looking over his shoulder with a rather perplexed look. As if listening for something only he could hear.

“Jojen… what’s the matter?” Meera asked her brother, coming to a stop with the bundle of kindling she carried, giving him her full attention.

“She’s coming…” He muttered. “But she shouldn’t be here…” Jojen turned around this time actively searching the darkness with his eyes. Summer and Shaggydog seemed to be awaiting something as well. Both of their ears perked in anticipation.

“Who?” Bran asked, shifting a bit from the wall Hodor had propped him against.

“Your sister…” He muttered as the soft padding of multiple wolves’ paws became audible. And suddenly stopped. Most of the wolves came to the tree line and waited. Their eyes flickering in the light. But one continued forward with a rider upon its back.

“A sister?” Rickon asked softly looking up at Osha who seemed to be in shock.

“Yes… Arya…” Bran whispered his eyes becoming wide. It was a few more moments before the young she-wolf stood before the escapees of the north.

She slipped off her wolf and quickly ran to Bran. She embraced her younger sibling knocking him into the dirt as she wrapped her arms around him. The last time she had seen him, in her mind, he had been lighting the swamps of Moat Cailin a flame to slow down the Night King and his army. Her final view of him was as he held the dying Meera in his arms as the smoke overtook them.

“Bran…” She whispered. “It’s been too long.” She pulled away, looking into his eyes as her own watered. “You have no idea how good it is to see you alive and well…”

“Arya, what in the…” He started before Arya then launched herself at Rickon.

She held his face carefully in her hands, examining every detail of the brother she had not been given the chance to know. He had been a babe when they left, happily clinging to their mother’s skirts. By the time she had returned North, Rickon Stark had been killed by Ramsay Bolton. And the one who had raised him, Osha, had been murdered as well. Rickon Stark had been her mystery, the brother she never knew.

“And look at you my wild little wolf. You have the Tully look about you, even more so than Bran. I thought your hair would darken like his but no you’ve been kissed by fire.” Rickon smiled at her, giving her a nice view of a missing tooth.

“You rode your wolf and have a pack…” Rickon said excitedly. Looking over to where Nymeria, Shaggydog, and Summer were wrestling in playful greeting. And just beyond them a forest of eyes sat obediently watching the scene unfold.

“It’s our pack, but Nymeria is the alpha. Since I have caught up to you they will probably head back into the Riverlands. Better hunting, and I need her to be my eyes. The red wedding was avoided but there are still Frey sympathizers…” Arya said casually gaining an odd look from all. She simply shrugged before greeting Osha and Hodor whom she called Willis.  She then turned to Jojen and Meera. The latter was looking at her suspiciously.

“How are you Arya Stark? She rode south and is captive in King’s Landing.” Meera said warily.

Arya gave a light laugh before making her way to the Reed siblings. “I would embrace you Meera, but you, as you are, would try to gut me… And you must be Jojen. You are probably the least and most confused, with the exception of Willis.”

“You aren’t supposed to be here, I saw you travelling with the Hound…” Jojen said softly.

“Well that is what happened originally, but Sansa travelled with the Hound and got to Robb and my mother. And a friend gave them a bit of intel on the Freys and their intentions. Last I heard, before I caught your trail, was that Walder Frey and most of his ilk had been put to the sword when they attempted to dishonor themselves by slaughtering their guests during the wedding of Edmure Tully and Rosilin Frey. But because Robb had been warned they were able to turn the tables.”

Arya continued. “Robb’s wife Talisa and Sansa were sent back to Winterfell. And because it was assumed that I was somewhere up North, Robb stopped marching South and sent his bannermen home. He said he would call upon them again should anyone in the South attempt to rise against the North. But the days grow short and winter must be prepared for. Let the Southerners fight over a rather uncomfortable looking chair. By the time they are done slaughtering each other winter will be here and no one will march.”

“That doesn’t explain how you got here…” Meera insisted.

“I rode Nym this time… Well I travelled with Yoren of the Night’s Watch, had a stint as the cup bearer for Tywin Lannister in Harrenhal, was captured by the Brotherhood without Banners, had to make a few stops for a handful of deals, and then I tracked you here, by riding Nym.” Arya responded grabbing at a water skin near Jojen’s feet and quickly taking a sip. “It really wasn’t that difficult.”

“You’ve been here before?” Jojen asked staring at her carefully.

“Well not here exactly… Your green-seeing, you probably saw me headed to Aunt Lysa… But she was dead before I got there. Sansa said it was Baelish, but since Sansa is back with mother…” She trailed off.

“You understand that this sounds crazy…” Bran said finally speaking. “You speak as if…”

Arya got a rather distant look in her eyes. “A girl made a friend of Death at the beginning of the end of all things… So he offered her a thing and they began to trade…” She swept a loose lock behind her ear as Nymeria came forward and sat next to her. Shaggydog and Summer curled up to their respective Starks as Rickon chatted excitedly with Osha who seemed unnerved by the unknown amount of wolves lurking in the trees. Hodor simply smiled.

“Is it possible for Bran to see, to know what you know?” Jojen asked curiously.

Arya gave Jojen a rather deep look and the young boy who had lived his life not being surprised by much of anything felt naked under her gaze. “I have made many deals, it would be best if you _both_ saw.” She shifted after a pause, her tone changing slightly. “I just… I’m not a green seer. And I am not Bryden Rivers. But the magic, it is burned in my blood.”

“Perhaps we should attempt something then…” Jojen said carefully, ignoring the look of discomfort that Meera sent him.

Arya nodded before stopping and looking at her brother Bran. “There are things you can’t know…” She paused. “Not yet at least, I was not sent back for us… And certain things were written as they were outside of anything I can offer…” Her glance landed curiously on Hodor and a flicker of sadness danced behind her gaze. “Our survival, for however long, means nothing if the Night’s King conquers Westeros again.”

The camp became rather quiet as Arya’s words sunk in. “Then I suppose sleeping would be the best option we have.” Jojen offered. Arya and Bran nodded in agreement before Meera stood cautiously.

“I’ll take the first watch then…” Meera muttered stretching and looking towards the tree line.

“They won’t hurt you; however, if you need reassurance…” Arya stared into the eyes of her wolf for a moment. Nymeria then rose slowly and dutifully attached herself to Meera’s side. “Nymeria take good care, help Meera find some game to bring back, and make sure no one is close…” The wolf gave a light yip, before carefully licking Meera’s hand, and making her way towards the trees.

“It makes her a bit uncomfortable…” Bran offered up. “She does not speak of it however…”

“I know… We should all try to get some sleep.” Arya muttered as she lay carefully on the ground, next to a forgotten pack she had dropped upon dismounting Nymeria, and stared into the flames.

After some time, when all around the fire was still, Arya heard Jojen scoot next to her. “How long do we have?”

“A while yet, I was six and ten when the wall fell. The dead march slow, but they fight a lot quicker. Because of that I was days away from twenty name days when the Night’s King took King’s Landing. All those left alive to Westeros had fled to the sea, attempting to escape to the deserts of Essos. But the sea had begun to freeze as well. And snow had been reported as far south as Starfall and as far west as Qarth before the ravens could no longer hazard the frozen winds.”

There was a long silence between them, the crackling of the fire their only company. “You must be aware that I…”

“I know you didn’t make it to the Three Eyed Raven. But Bran needs you. As I said before, I am not here for us, though I am attempting to rewrite the devastation that came to my house. There were roles that I could not change, cannot change. One was a catalyst, the death of my father. The others were acts of the types of _gods_ I do not serve. Old and new… The future Three Eyed Raven is of the old gods and is more entangled in the past and future of Westeros than I can understand. And Jon…” Arya’s words faded as her eyes darkened and became rather distant.

“I have seen him betrayed by his brothers, still at the wall while it stood…”

Arya let out a light laugh, the bitter ring of it almost choking her. “If you have not seen the fires weep, then you have not seen the death of the Prince that was Promised.”


	15. Chapter 15

In a time that was never…

Arya Stark was not one to be frantic, so she did not shriek. But she did cry, silent tears streaking down her cheeks as she held her husband’s hand, fingers laced, and locked tight. He had been found at the west gate of Acorn Hall, alone and bloody, after hazarding his way through a blizzard with a rather nasty abdominal wound. Brienne of Tarth had been the one to spot him and had carried him to the chambers he had shared with Arya in the newest hall they had been forced to retreat to after the Twins had fallen.

He had only woken long enough to apparently request that Brienne take him to Arya and that she tell no one of him or his condition. Brienne stood inside of the Queen’s chambers trying to offer the pair a bit of privacy but still not knowing what she could do. Arya had cleaned the wound as best she could, but even Brienne could see the damage would likely kill him. Arya had burnt it and sewn it shut with clumsy stitches but they had no maester to do better.

Arya whispered sweet nothings to him unlacing her fingers only long enough to place a cool cloth on his head. She kissed his cheek, now warm with fever, pulled his hand forward to rest on the almost non-existent bump on her abdomen. The one no one was aware of yet beyond her.

Arya made a rather failed attempt to wipe her face and looked over to Brienne. “And he said tell no one?” She asked the woman again. This time a little more forcefully than the others, her head finally clear to hear and understand all that happened.

“Yes, your grace. When he was lucid, he said take him to you.  I turned to get assistance but he stopped me with a shake of his head. And told me to tell no one. He was able to half walk until we got into the hall where he began to collapse. I wanted to call for help. So there I said, as he began to lose consciousness, ‘But who else is here to tell beyond Lady Sansa?’ He shook his head again and started to speak of your brother but he passed out completely. I dragged him to you then… He is your prince, I respected his request.” Brienne stated watching the Queen in the North turn back to her husband.

She once again began the motions to replace his cooling cloth when she paused. “He shook his head at the mention of Sansa?” Brienne frowned but nodded. “And then he began to speak of Jon who has been missing for…”

“For a sennight…”

Arya’s face went blank, her winter grey eyes losing their sparkle, as she mulled over the information. “Brienne, you are sworn to my sister…”

“And to you your grace… You two have… the same goals, to clear the lands until the Night’s King can be defeated.” Brienne said forced out, a chill running down her spine as her mind began to dance along the same trail as Arya’s. But she dared not speak such thoughts into existence.

“Do we?” Arya asked quietly as Brienne began to feel her world crack.

“Your grace… Arya you mustn’t doubt…” Brienne started. There were far more important things than the game of thrones, surely Sansa would have not made a move that could in fact doom them all, simply for the _chance_ to sit upon the throne of ice _should_ the Night’s King be defeated.

“Chaos is a ladder… I am going to ask you to perform a task for me, as a friend. If it is too much I will not pressure you to do it for I know the amount of sentiment you hold for my sister. Would you check her rooms? See if she has left any scribblings from or to Baelish?” She whispered. “It is a task I can accomplish myself but Gendry might…”

“Of course…” Brienne said softly with a bow. She let out a soft sigh before letting herself out of the room almost missing the whispered apology offered to her.

It was nearly the next night when Brienne returned with the burnt remnant of a note she had found in the soot of Sansa’s fireplace. Sansa had left at midday and had not returned, a suspicious thing to do. Arya had found ways to keep people away from her chamber that day, and was not aware of his sister’s disappearance. When Brienne returned to the queen’s chambers, she was surprised to see Prince Gendry seemingly coming to.

There was a sad light in Arya’s eyes as Brienne made her way over to the young queen. “He is trying to awaken because I have been telling him secrets… And he can’t leave me without saying goodbye, he knows I wouldn’t forgive him for being such a cruel bull, gorging my heart like that…”

Gendry moaned his eyes flickering and then shutting again. “Your grace he might not…”

“I know… He’s very warm… Worse than when he would work long hours in the forge. I can’t…” Her voice cracked. “I don’t want him to suffer like this… I don’t…” She choked up again.

Brienne moved in close and placed a small bottle of milky liquid in Arya’s hand. “It took some searching but I found some...” Arya’s stare was blank as her fingers wrapped around the bottle of milk of the poppy. She said nothing as Brienne continued. “Your grace, Lady Sansa was heard commenting on your behavior to a guard near midday, and then was seen leaving, heading east, upon one of our last horses… I also found this…” She slipped the burnt parchment into her queen’s hand.

Arya Stark let out a light breath and gave Brienne a short bow. “Thank you, I know that this…”

She stopped as Gendry let out a strong cough and opened his blue eyes. “Ar-ry…” Within an instant the fragile scrap of paper was on the floor and Arya was dripping water into her husband’s mouth. Her fingers lightly brushed his dark hair from his forehead. “You are still ok…” He said after a few moments with a smile. He weakly squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry I should have told you when I left…”

“Don’t be, you stupid bull... And of course, I’m fine…” She whispered raining sweet kisses upon his face to stop herself from crying.

“Does she know I made it back?” He asked with a slight wheeze.

Arya swallowed thickly. “Sansa left at midday, I assume that she supposed my odd behavior hinted at your possible return…”

“Arry…” Gendry moaned softly using a bit too much of his energy to stroke her cheek. She clasped at his hand, holding it to her. “She said she had received a raven from Fairmarket that Jon had been trapped there and needed supplies. She sent me with two of Baelish’s men. They betrayed me, would have killed me if…” He paused as something odd flickered across his face. “Arya…” There was silence and Arya frowned trying to read the odd expression that had settled on Gendry’s face.

“Your grace, what happened…” Brienne asked, her attention too completely on Gendry.

He shook his head. “Lady Sansa feared you were with child, that’s why the Vale knights drew me away, then someone was supposed to come for you…”

“She wasn’t wrong.” Arya said softly. Brienne gasped as Gendry’s mouth simply fell open. “I know the maester said we shouldn’t hope for it, that final wound I got in Bravos was… It doesn’t matter now, but she wasn’t wrong.”

“You are but… Arry…” Gendry looked so happy in that moment before conflicting emotions started to dance across his face. “But how would she know?”

“The meat…” Brienne whispered.

“Wait what?” Gendry asked stifling a coughing fit, his breathing labored. Arya tried to drip water down his throat before he calmed again, she then replaced the cloth on his forehead. She tried to tend to his wound which had begun to leak from his fit. But he gently shooed her hands away, it was useless. She sighed giving him two drops of milk of the poppy not wanting him to fall asleep so quickly, knowing he would probably not reawaken. But hating that he was in so much pain.

“The night before you disappeared your grace,” Brienne started capturing Gendry’s gaze. “Lady Sansa and I saw Queen Arya leaving the kitchens in a rush muttering about the smell of the meat, she looked a bit unwell.” She turned to Arya. “At the time Lady Sansa muttered something about you being just like your mother, but she didn’t elaborate.”

“It is an odd thing to vomit at the scent of cooked horse flesh when there is nothing left to eat…” Arya muttered.

“You have to find her, she won’t stop Arry… She won’t…” Gendry began coughing again, this time blood spewed onto his wife’s gray tunic. “Gods, I’m sorry…” He moaned.

Arya hushed him looking back to Brienne. “Brienne, can you find Sansa and bring her back?”

“Of course, your grace…” Brienne said turning quickly towards the door. She stopped and looked back and Gendry with a sad smile. “It has been an honor Prince Gendry.” She said with a deep bow before disappearing out the door.

Arya carefully climbed into the bed next to Gendry, settling into his side. She gingerly moved his hand so that it was over her belly. Her head was carefully placed on his chest so she could hear is heartbeat. “You think…” Her voice broke for a moment but she gained her composure back. “You think it will be a boy?” She tried to sound happy, but being with child in this hellscape, laying next to her dying husband, made that hard even for a mummer of her skill.

“It’ll be a girl for sure…” Gendry said with a sad smile. “Beautiful and as wild as her mother…” They sat in silence for a moment, Arya drawing swirled patterns on the back of his hand. “Arya, go back to Bravos… You’ll die if you stay. You’ll both die…”

She stiffened at his words pulling herself up to capture his gaze. “The sea is freezing. They will come there… I can’t just run forever. I have to try and stop them.”

“Please, there is no one left…”

“We have Dany and Jon and…” Arya paused when she saw that same odd flicker fly across Gendry’s face. “Jon? You went to save Jon…”

“Arya… I…”

“She killed him too? She killed my brother?” Arya sat up, he said nothing while looking away. “Gendry please… I can’t…”

Gendry groaned as he used the last bit of his strength to pull his wife back into his embrace. He held her as he felt tears wet his already damp chest. “I’m dying…”

“I know.” She whispered.

“You can’t slip away, you have to feel. If not for you for me please. No one won’t mourn for me. Arya Stark will…” He said softly. She nodded. “No matter what I tell you, you can’t slip away… Promise me.”

“I promise…” She whispered.

“I don’t know how Jon met his end. But the only reason I could make it here was because of him. He killed the Vale knights even as his eyes glowed a winter’s blue…” Arya was silent. “Arya…”

She quietly asked, “How far away?”

“The horde had not made it to Fairmarket but one of the whites was there, he must have made Jon into…” Gendry began to cough again more blood escaping his mouth. Eventually he stopped but he looked so tired. Arya shifted herself putting his head in her lap so that he could breathe a little easier. “Arya, please you have to leave… Please…”

“You remember the last time we were here?” Arya said softly brushing his hair from his damp forehead. He let out a raw laugh followed by a moan. “I think I loved you even then, even when you stupidly called me pretty in that hideous gown.”

“You were… you are…” He breathed out no longer able to stop his body from trembling. She smiled at him before reaching for the bottle of milky fluid. “I don’t want to leave you. I love you.”

“I will always remember you Gendry Baratheon, and in that way you will never leave my side…” She whispered before pressing the small vial to his lips. He drank it quietly without protest and snuggled into her lap. She then sang to him the tale of Jenny Oldstones, gently and off key, until his soft breathing slowed and then came to a stop.


	16. Chapter 16

The breath Arya took when she found herself once again in the Glade was deep. She stood in the furs she had once died in, hair loose in the gentle breeze. The downy hairs at the base of her neck rose as she became aware of her surroundings. She stood in a small field with a light dusting of snow. In the middle sat a hooded figure with her back to her. The woman was humming softly to herself, carefully spinning grass that then turned into a pile of rubies as red as blood.

“The little she-wolf has found her way, she looks for her kin, not here, not here… But here all the same…” The woman sang softly before letting out an airy laugh.

Arya paused for a moment her eyes searching. “Is… Is Bran here?”

“Not yet but yes. My essence, my love, my heart. Beats like the raven’s wings. Beats like the blinking of a third eye…” She sings again. And then the woman let out a long and whimsy filled laugh. She blows a sweet kiss at the rubies and they light themselves a flame. “Fire and blood…” The hooded woman whispers.

Arya’s arms wrapped around her protectively as a light snow began to fall. “Why am I here?” She asked. She looked around the clearing for signs of anyone else. But it seemed that they were alone.

The woman stilled her fingers leaving their appointed task to come to rest at the edge of her hood. “I once loved maid of winter with wolf’s blood in her veins. That’s what he sung to me you know… Such a long time ago now…”

Arya carefully moved to the side of the woman as she pushed her hood down. A crown of dark curly hair was revealed. “Who are you?” Arya whispered as she finally came face to face with the young woman. At first glance Arya was reminded of the time she lost her sight in Bravos and Jaqen had mimicked her face. And yet the cheekbones were a bit too high, there was a dash of freckles she knew she didn’t have, and a tiny clef in the chin. And yet Stark gray clashed with Stark gray.

“I am the winter maiden of this realm. As you soon shall be, as you were for only a moment before. But in another time, I was called Lyanna Stark.” She said softly raising from her position and walking towards Arya. “It is lovely to meet the next maiden of winter.” The woman who was in fact younger in appearance than Arya came forward placing her hand gently on her cheek. “Ned’s youngest daughter… both times this realm shook at your birth as the wolves howled and ran amongst the trees. Far more of their blood than I have, far more than any have had since the first…”

“The first?” Arya said looking at the eerily similar face, a bit shocked by the cold skin of her aunt’s hand.

“Hmm…” Lyanna nodded slightly. “Of course, you think you are the wind, warrior of the times. A good avatar of such a thing you would be as well. Though I would say you are far more like the Stranger than he gives you credit…” She paused as if in deep thought. “You gave much to be here again. You sacrificed your own peace to try to restore the balance. But we are more than just the tidings of the elements. We are wolves, we are a season…” Lyanna whispered her gray eyes flickering.

“And what of the Night King?” Arya asked pulling away. She halfway expected him or the many-faced god to appear. It seemed the two were aware of her whenever she found her way into the Glade. It was a comfort and a distraction.

‘Do not dream so freely…’ The words echoed in her mind. Would if she could, the demons of her previous life stole her dreams often, placing her in other spaces.

“A wolf as well, Old Nan has told you as much, no?” Lyanna said with a light laugh. “The wolves are winter, and winter is coming. But such tales are for another time. You wish to show your brother enough but not too much? You have the blessing of a god that is not his… and even our ways are not our own.”

Arya frowned. ‘Some say the Night’s King is a Stark…’ the old woman had once said. But the Night’s King and the Night King were not one in the same. Or if they were she would be damned to know or begin to understand now.

She brushed these thoughts away, to be examined at another time. She continued. “It would be easier to show him, so he knows he cannot stray this time from his path. He was not ready when he came home. He must be ready so that the Night King can be defeated. Bran and Jon…” Arya said stopping when a strange look passed over Lyanna’s face.

“My son… in another time he met his end for the idea of you. And in turn you faced a horde of undead to grant him peace.” Lyanna said softly. “He will meet this end again…”

“He is my brother… At that time, we had burned the crypts. Bran burned with Meera. Sansa… she laid on a pyre after it was all said and done. Jon was the last, no Stark would aid the Night King…”

“My precious Aegon was not the last… You were… And the pack mourned your lost and the Glade shook, even as time reversed. Only the wildest one would try it over. It makes some wonder if you bleed red or a winter’s blue.” Lyanna’s eyes softened and she quietly sweep to the side motioning for Arya to sit at the wheel. “Spin little wolf, spin your memories bright and fair. Walk within them, guide your brother and the green seer. Tell them what they must know. Show them our fate if we fail.”

So Arya did, she carefully spun the grass and the gems that fell before her were colored half the deep blue of a Baratheon’s eyes and half the fire red of a nameless man’s hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying to pick and choose between the books and the show and weave them into what might be thought of as coherent. But I guess we'll see how it all works out in the end. R&R


	17. Chapter 17

“You’re… tall… er…” Bran muttered. It was the first thing Arya heard when the Glade had stopped spinning. She, Jojen, and Bran were standing in the Wolf’s Wood. The snow was only ankle deep but the air was biting.

“I’m actually twenty. And I miss my height…” Arya said dismissively before looking around and heading off. In her hand she held a blue and red jewel, she rubbed it for comfort. “Come on, I’m pretty sure I know when this is.”

“When… are we?” Jojen asked awkwardly.

“Before Winterfell had to be deserted a decision needed to be made. I had somehow fumbled my way into being Queen in the North…” Arya sighed out before biting her lip. “So the decision became mine…”

The trio came upon a clearing just in time to see an angry Sansa attempt to slap Arya.

“You’d burn our father?! Our ancestors?!” Sansa screamed yanking her hand back from the younger woman who had caught it.

“Better than seeing them on the battle field Sansa.” Arya said softly looking towards Bran who sat in a chair on wheels. “Bran there is a chance he can raise them all?”

“Yes.”

“We just found him and now you want to light a torch to him and the crypts?!” Sansa said almost hysterically. She started trying to calm herself, taking deep breaths. The clearing was strangely quiet for a moment.

Arya stood quiet before looking into her sister’s Tully blue eyes. “Someone has to make the call. Ned Stark arisen with winter in his eyes, would you doom me to meeting him in battle?”

“You’ve already killed our mother.” Sansa spat before her eyes widened at her words. “Arya… that wasn’t fair…”

“The crypts will burn.” Arya said the mask of no one falling into place as she turned on her heel and left the clearing.

“Bran…” Sansa started.

“This path you are on… Arya did not want this, you of all people should know that. She had an entire life in the shadows, she came home and was forced to be seen. You made the play so that Jon would no longer be King in the North so that the North would be free to govern itself. Arya being queen was something you did not foresee… And neither did she…” Bran said softly.

“She will damn us all, abandoning our home…”

“It won’t be Arya who damns us this time…” Bran said softly his eyes locking with Sansa’s.

Sansa’s mouth gaped. She then frowned before storming off leaving Bran to his own devices.

“Are you trying again?” Bran asked the trio who stood next to the tree line.

Younger Bran looked startled before walking forward. “You can see us?”

“You and I, we will always see each other… Remember it as you travel the waves of time.” He paused before setting his eyes on Jojen. “It has been too long my friend.”

“Been by your side for a while in my mind…” Jojen said with a smirk.

Arya stepped forward, “And that’s where he will stay…”

“With you intervening I believe you… We failed this time though?” Bran asked. “I never could see the end… But then, it probably was not meant for me to see.”

Arya paused before biting her lip and kneeling before her brother. In this time, he didn’t have long for this world. And his loss had been what tore Arya and Sansa apart. It had driven Sansa into the arms and plans of Baelish. “It isn’t meant for this time, no. But it will be.” She leaned down to kiss his cheek before the memory started to shift. She tried to set her mind on something that would help Bran understand what was at stake. Instead all she felt was loss as she was pulled through time.

The last thing they heard before being plunged into darkness was Bran. “I believe you oh maid of winter…”

When the world was once again right Arya froze as she recognized the place and time. Bran tugged at her furs. “Where are we? Should we move from out in the open? Will I find us again?”

“No, you won’t find us here…” She sighed walking through Acorn Hall like the ghost she was. Her steps faulted at what was once her chamber doors but then continued out towards the courtyard. “You were gone by now… Ashes on the wind at the Neck.”

“Why was Bran at the Neck?” Jojen asked curiously as they stopped at an archway. Arya walked through it and down the stone steps.

“The Night King took the North. Bran dreamed of him and he burned a mark upon his skin… Something about it allowed him to see us as Bran saw him. At one point he tried to possess him…”

Bran’s eyes widened. “How could the Night King possess me? That sounds…”

“Just as fantastical as the Others…” Arya said with a sigh. “The swamps of the Neck burned. And while I was trying to see to the blaze, you decided to sacrifice yourself in it. While it was a huge blow to us, it apparently disoriented the Others as well. They stood completely still for almost four moon turns.”

“So did you strike at them then?” Bran questioned trying to figure out where the War for the Dawn had gone so wrong.

“A bit, Dany flew the dragons in but we almost lost Drogon. Viserys had already fallen. We pulled back. Started the evacuation of the Riverlands like I had done the North. Tended to our armies, gathered those that would fight. This is a bit after the Others began marching again.”

 “Where are we Lady Arya?” Jojen inquired as they came upon a small procession for a funeral. Arya Stark stood near a pyre in all black the silver queen clasping at her hand. Wolves howled in the woods surrounding them.

“Acorn Hall to apparently watch the funeral of the last King in the North… My husband…” Arya looked away from herself. The silent tears she remembered, and emotion threated to overwhelm her. She could practically feel Dany clasping her hand. She didn’t have to hear her friend to remember the words of encouragement whispered in her ear. This hadn’t happened so long ago that it didn’t hurt.

“I do not think I wanted to show you this. But I also think it would not be wise to show you the Night King. It would be most unfortunate for him to leave a mark this early…”

“Then why are we here?” Bran asked quietly immediately realizing his sister was distressed. At that moment he felt it, his sister’s sorrow. There were mere months in her mind that removed her from this memory.

“Because she missed me…”

Arya spun on her heels as her eyes widened. Tears began to streak down her face as her hands flew to cover her mouth. Before her the dark-haired man stood. His Baratheon blue eyes twinkling as an easy smirk graced his lips.

“M’lady…” He said with a curt bow before she rushed into his arms full of tears and kisses.

“Gendry…”


End file.
